Wheeling Gull Isle And I don't even care about what people say

Oh, Lucas quietly intoned, feeling worse and worse by the second. Stupid. He should've known that, shouldn't he? It was so obvious. The waves swept back and forth across the beach at all times, so it only made sense that small things should wash back ashore. He could have forgiven himself for not realizing, seeing as he had never lived on an island before, if only Moorhen's face wasn't arranged into something between irritation and judgment. It made him wilt a little on the inside to be disapproved of, and he instantly hated it.

And he had never hated anything in his life.

Um... what should I do with them? he asked, surprising even himself with the cheery inflection he delivered at the end. He didn't feel particularly cheery, but unlike Moorhen, Lucas wasn't one to infect others with his bad mood. In fact he preferred to inject happiness into everyone he met. Making other wolves made him feel good about himself; it was so much better than this somewhat glum feeling he had in his belly now.